Let Me Out!
by MissFuneralSong
Summary: The members of the Host Club have all been kidnapped, separated and imprisoned by a mysterious entity. Soon they'll be forced to face one another in a contest...where Haruhi is the prize! AU-ish thing, HaruhixSomeone later on, see if you can guess who.
1. One: Tamaki I

Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran High School Host Club. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction for it, now, would I?

Note: I came up with this idea not half an hour ago, typed it out and...here it is. I plan to cover all the members of the Host Club at least once, but then again... I'm not sure whether I'll even end up finishing this. I'll just have to wait and see what kind of reaction it gets. By the way, it's meant to be more comedy than drama - which I generally have trouble keeping on track, so this is my story to practice for that. If you feel it gets a bit too 'dark' for Host Club in later chapters, don't hesitate to ask me where the funny's gone.

Let Me Out!

One: Tamaki (I)

Tamaki Suou floated groggily into consciousness, pawing at his pillow until it was dislodged from his face. It was that time of morning, he could see, that didn't even deserve to be _called _morning; the sky outside was a foggy grey colour, and whatever specks of light happened to make it into Tamaki's room apparently had previous engagements, as they all left as soon as they'd come. Tamaki was about to complain loudly to whoever was listening that this was _not _a dignified hour for _anyone _to be awake, when he realised with a gasp that he was not in his bedroom. The pillow he'd wrestled was too hard, the blankets covering him too worn. Panicked, he tossed the bedclothes aside and made to leap dramatically off the bed like he would his own luxurious four-poster.

Too late, he realised that _this _bed was just a futon on cold cement. His leap turned into a kind of complicated transition into the upright position, which was neither graceful nor dignified. Tamaki stood for a moment, feeling sheepish and glancing around to make sure nobody had seen... And that's when it hit him. Nobody had seen. There was _nobody _there. He was in a big, dark, _dirty _cement room all by himself, without a clue as to how he'd come to be there.

'Haruhi?' he called out hopefully.

--

He had sat patiently on the lumpy futon for at least an hour, listening for sounds and yelling occasionally when he felt the silence begin to creep too close to him. Tamaki had tried to think back, to remember what could possibly have happened for him to end up here, but to no avail; the last thing he recalled was sitting on his special 'throne' in the Host Club's abandoned-music-room-turned-headquarters, slurping his peasant-ramen loudly to try to annoy...

...Haruhi. Tamaki sprung to his feet, this time looking less like a baby giraffe while doing so, and began to swiftly pace the length of the room. There was a thick, steel door directly across from his bed, with a hatch in it at about eye-level, presumably for someone on the _other _side of the door to look through. Tamaki tried it anyway, and when he found he had no idea how to operate the thing, he gave a frustrated cry and kicked the wall roughly. Then he gave a different kind of cry, clutching at his injured foot and hopping up and down like a restless flamingo.

'I know there's someone out there!' he yelled, at the room in particular. 'Where's Haruhi? And the others? What did you _do _to me?'

No answer. Tamaki flopped back onto the futon and examined his foot more closely, grumbling under his breath in a general sort of way. After several minutes of this, there was a loud, metallic grating sound as the hatch in the door slid back. Tamaki got up cautiously and tried to peer through the gap. All he could see was a deep black shadow.

'Who are you?' he demanded. 'Where is she?'

The person at the door was silent for a moment, as if contemplating slamming the hatch shut again. There was some heavy breathing; it sounded distorted, like the person was wearing a heavy gas mask. Then it replied.

'The girl is safe,' it growled quietly, menacingly; it was impossible to discern whether its voice was male or female. 'She must be kept in good condition until the contest ends - since she _is _the prize.'

'Wh--' At this point Tamaki couldn't decide which of his questions was the most urgent, so he decided to try a few of them at once. 'What contest? Where is she? What are you talking about?'

'Don't worry, my child,' the person replied. 'You'll see her soon enough. That is,' and here it gave a sinister chuckle, '_if_ you are victorious.' The hatch slid shut just as Tamaki lost his temper and lunged at the door. What he was supposed to have hit with his clenched fist was the face of the mysterious growling man; what he had hit instead was three inches of solid metal. He yelped and fell backward, just missing the edge of the futon and hitting his rear end on the cold floor. Sucking at his throbbing fingers and rubbing his aching caboose, Tamaki sniffled and wondered miserably where everyone - _anyone _- else was.

_To be continued..._


	2. Two: Kyouya I

Let Me Out!

Two: Kyouya (I)

Kyouya Ohtori had already been awake for several minutes, surveying his surroundings with the very same ice-cold gaze he always wore. But this time was different. Kyouya was used to being in control of situations, and now he'd had not only his control taken away, but a rather large chunk of his memory as well. He'd never admit it to anyone, but he was beginning to worry.

The mysterious person in the shadows had been to see him, too, and Kyouya had matched him - or her, or it - stare for stare, and it had left without a word. He got the feeling someone was close, though, and decided to try an experiment.

'Excuse me,' he said calmly, as though he were conversing with a friend over coffee and not being held captive inside what appeared to be a giant, hollow brick. 'I beg your pardon, Shadow-san. I know you're there.'

The hatch on the door slid back. There was a grunt of acknowledgement.

'I'd like to know where my friends are,' said Kyouya, slowly and firmly, never removing his vision from the area where the jailer's eyes ought to be. 'I'd like to know that they're safe from harm. And then I'd like you to kindly tell me what's going on here.'

Another grunt, then: 'The others are alive, for now. Be content with that.' The person made to slide the hatch closed again, but in one fluid movement Kyouya got up from his futon, scooped up a chunk of stray cement, crossed to the door and slammed the rock into the eye-hole, applying pressure to keep it open. At this distance, he could at least see his captor's dark eyes.

'If you won't listen of your own free will,' hissed Kyouya, his own eyes narrowing to slits, 'then you will be _made _to listen. It seems you don't realise what a foolish mistake you've made. Myself and each of my associates, in other words the people you _kidnapped_, all have very wealthy and influential families. Don't you think those families would stop at nothing to find you and have you _strung up_?' Filling the last two words with as much malice as he could muster, Kyouya withdrew the rock from the peep-hole. 'I'll give you some time to think about the situation,' he added. 'An hour ought to be enough, wouldn't you say?'

The hatch slammed shut. Kyouya smirked in an extremely self-satisfied way, tossed his rock aside and stretched out on the futon with his hands behind his head. That man - it had _seemed _like a man, from what Ohtori could see of it - had expected him to be weak, frightened and desperate for escape. In taking away Kyouya's control of himself and the events around him, the man had aimed to make him as far from comfortable as it was possible to be. That would make him vulnerable and easy to manipulate. Kyouya's eyes blackened as he thought of his cohorts - _no,_ he corrected himself, _my friends_. While he was accustomed to the futile mind-games of others, how would his friends fare? Would they be able to resist, as he had, or would they succumb to it and be slowly driven mad? He thought of Hunny, Tamaki...Haruhi. Such pure souls, each possessing a joy and love of life that Kyouya had never experienced. What would become of them now, in this dark, fetid place?

Shuffling slightly on his makeshift bed, Kyouya closed his eyes and tried not to ponder the answer to that question, while he lay alone in the darkness, and waited.

--

Forty-five minutes later, Ohtori heard the sound of a huge, heavy key turning in a lock, and then a massive, ancient creak as the hinges swung inwards and the door to his prison was opened. He got to his feet, a characteristic smirk on his face, and was about to comment when the man - who was at least a head taller than Kyouya, and must have wieghed twice as much - clasped his fists together, drew them back behind his head and brought them down impossibly hard on Kyouya's shoulder, barely missing breaking his skull in two. Kyouya slumped to the ground, unconsciousness having sunk in instantaneously, and the man grabbed the boy by the shirt collar, half dragging and half carrying him from his cell.

_To be continued..._

* * *

I know I said it'd be more of a comedy... ;; Writing Tamaki, comedy is easy, but Kyouya... I suppose he just brings out my dark side. He _is _the Shadow King, after all. Next chapter's either going to be Mori or Hikaru, I haven't decided yet. Thanks for reading.


	3. Three: Hikaru I

Let Me Out!

Three: Hikaru (I)

The very second Hikaru Hitachiin had woken up and realised that he didn't know where he was, he had started yelling.

'Hey! Whoever you are! Where's Kaoru? Where's _Kaoru_?'

So far, he'd gotten no answer. And it had been an hour, which meant that his throat was now raw and as sore as anything. He sat on his shabby futon, resting his chin on his hands and waiting for the power of painless speech to return to him. After about a minute he felt uncomfortable in the silence and decided to stomp his feet loudly on the concrete floor in angry defiance, staring at the door in front of him and watching for any sign of movement. Hikaru pouted as he struggled to recall the events leading up to his awakening in this strange room.

He could remember being in the Host Club's room, tidying up after school. Haruhi had said something to upset Tamaki, and Hikaru and his twin had been teasing their 'king' to annoy him further. Then - the door had creaked open, they had all turned to greet their unexpected guest, and after that... Nothing. He couldn't remember anything between that moment and waking up _here_. It didn't feel as though he'd _forgotten_, exactly; more like there were no _memories _there to fill in the blanks.

Shaking his head absentmindedly, Hikaru stood up, crossed over to the door and tried his luck at shouting again.

'Hey! Where's Kaoru? And Haruhi, and everyone else? _Tell me_!' It still hurt his throat a little, but not so much as to deter him. He continued to shout, 'Hey! _Hey_!' as loud as he could, although it was a futile effort. Nobody seemed to be listening, because he received no answer. And something that greatly surprised Hikaru was that it _irritated_ him, just as much as the absence of his brother and friends did. He was being _ignored_. And he _hated _it.

'I know you can hear me!' he exclaimed desperately, his voice increasing in pitch. All their lives, Hikaru and Kaoru had seen to it that they were always the center of attention, no matter the situation. Nobody ever ignored either of the Hitachiin twins if they didn't want people to; considering the lengths to which they'd go in order to gain notice, ignoring them was beyond difficult. Whoever this _bastard _was who'd kidnapped him, Hikaru wasn't going to let his disgressions go unpunished.

He decided to progress to pounding on the door whilst shouting. While the hard, cold steel of the thing made a satisfyingly loud sound when beaten, it also began to scrape the skin off of Hikaru's hands, drawing a great deal of blood. Hikaru paid this no mind, however; his thoughts had just turned to Haruhi. She was a strong girl, he knew, but still...she was a _girl_. He was a bit of a chauvinist at heart, and wondered with mounting anxiety how Haruhi would fare, being locked up like this. She'd probably be frightened, cold, alone... Picturing her like that wasn't doing Hikaru's mental state any favours, and so he attempted to distract himself with his senseless beating of the door.

Suddenly and much to Hikaru's shock, the great awful thing burst open with a metallic squeal akin to fingernails on a blackboard. Unfortunately for his face, it was an inward-opening door. Hikaru, having very quickly changed from standing to sprawling on the ground, clutched at his now-bleeding nose and stared in furious defiance at the person who had appeared in the doorway. It was enormous, blocking the light from outside with its impressive mass, and it was wearing a long black cloak with a hood. Under one of its tree-trunk arms it was carrying what appeared to be an unconscious person, with short dark hair and...glasses...

'Kyouya!' was what Hikaru tried to cry out, but with a broken nose it came out sounding more like, 'Gyoughya!' He struggled to his feet, one hand still clasped to his face and the other raised, ready to fight for the release of his friend. There was no need, however; the giant man hurled the limp form of Kyouya straight at Hikaru's chest, bowling him over and pinning him to the floor.

'You may take _this_,' said the man, whose tone declared to the world that he was smirking unpleasantly underneath his hood. 'You'll need it. It isn't that much of an ally, but in the coming battle it'll be better than none.'

'Hwhut?' spluttered Hikaru through a face full of blood. 'Hwhut baddhul? Who are hyou?'

The man chuckled darkly. 'I daresay you'll find out soon enough, little worm,' he replied smugly. 'You'll _all _find out.' He turned with a flourish, swinging his long cloak behind him in what he undoubtedly thought was an impressive gesture, and strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The sound of bolts sliding home could be heard, then silence.

Hikaru, already hampered by bleeding hands and a broken nose, now had to struggle to push the other boy off himself and onto the futon. He managed it somehow, and proceeded to tear strips from the thin blanket for use as hand bandages while he waited for Kyouya to awaken.

Well, at least now he'd have someone to talk to.

_To be continued..._

* * *

Poor Kyouya just can't seem to catch a break in this story, can he? Oh well. Next chapter's full of Mori goodness.

* * *


	4. Four: Takashi I

Let Me Out!

Chapter Four: Takashi (I)

Takashi Morinozuka wasn't concerned by the fact that he was trapped inside a concrete room, nor was he concerned that he had no memory of how he'd ended up there. Only one thing mattered to Mori at that moment, and it was: Mitsukuni was missing.

He sat on his futon, staring up at the dark, impassive shape of the door with a dark, impassive expression on his face. Such was Mori's nature that very few people were privy to his thoughts, and so none but he himself knew that he did not in fact _have _many thoughts that were worth being privy to. It wasn't that the boy was dumb, it was just that his mind didn't like to waste time. Mostly what Mori thought of was looking out for Mitsukuni. He was duty-bound to do so, as a member of the Morinozuka family, but Takashi knew that there was a lot more to it than that; he did it because he _wanted_ to. Mitsukuni was his friend, and Mori wanted more than anything to keep his friend safe from the dangers that riddled the world.

Usually calm in both mind and demeanour, he was currently having trouble with one of the two. Worrying about Mitsukuni - not to mention the others as well - was wreaking havoc with his mental state, making him feel as disorientated as though he'd just spent the past five minutes running around in continuous circles. Mori was used to a certain degree of constant worry, which came out of his almost paternal need to ensure the safety of his tiny companion, but he'd never felt anything _near _this intense before; it was making his palms sweat, just thinking about the kinds of terrible things that could have happened to his fellow Host Club members.

Seeming to sit stoically on his futon, much in the same focused manner as a monk deep in meditation, in actuality Mori retained his calm front because his face was _frozen_, while his mind ran a hundred miles an hour under the surface. He was still in this position several minutes later, when the huge door was slid open, allowing a man - who was somehow much larger than the abnormally tall Takashi - to slide a food tray into the room. Immediately after this task was complete, the door slammed shut again.

Mori stared blankly at the tray. The food was barely a pittance - a slice of slightly overcooked fish and a bowl of rice - and normally Mori would simply have left it where it was. But all of a sudden, his stomach informed him with a disgruntled growl that the gap in his memory was rather _lengthy_ and it hadn't been fed in all that time. He leaned toward the tray, gingerly lifting it off the ground and resting it on his lap. A pair of chopsticks had been conveniently provided; Mori picked these up and prodded the rice with them cautiously, as though afraid it might leap out of the bowl and latch onto his face.

Eventually, and very, very slowly, he began to eat. And not once did he cease worrying about Mitsukuni.

--

The towering man strode down a dank hallway that was barely able to accomodate the extent of his girth. There was a white door at the end of the corridor, quite different to the forbidding, blackened ones that lined the walls on either side. The man stopped at this one and knocked twice, respectfully, waiting in silence until a female voice commanded, 'Enter.' He pulled open the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him.

'Is that you, Kakeru?' asked the woman. Neither person could see the other in this room, pitch black save for the weak light emanating from a television, which was pushed up against the far wall. The man could barely make out the silhouette of a high-backed chair facing the TV; this was probably where the woman sat.

'It's me, mistress,' he confirmed.

'Your status?' The way she spoke, she sounded like a military commander. But there was an edge to the voice that made it sound..._young_.

'I have all of them, mistress,' thundered the man. 'All seven. Their conditioning has commenced.'

'Excellent.' Just the right amount of emphasis was placed on that word to make any listener _certain_ that the woman had just steepled her fingers. 'Ohtori is with the louder twin?'

'Yes, mistress.'

There was a moment of sinister, contemplative silence. Then: 'Dose the small one's food, and put him in with his servant. Ensure that he does not awaken for at least one hour.'

'Yes, mistress, I shall see to it directly,' rumbled the man known as Kakeru, turning to go. He paused with his massive fingers clasped on the brass door handle. 'What should be done about the other Hitachiin, mistress?' he inquired.

More silence, then the woman replied, 'Leave him as he is. That one is weaker than his brother.' Her next statement had a smirk infused within every syllable. 'He'll _break_ very soon.'

_To be continued..._

* * *

At last, our true villain reveals herself (sort of)! I don't like the sound of what she's got in store for poor, sweet little Hunny-senpai...who's our star for next chapter, by the way! Stay tuned!  
(Has anyone noticed that my writing style seems to change slightly for each chapter? Maybe it's like each character's speaking through me, or something spooky like that? If that's true, I never expected Mori's inner voice to be like _that_! Maybe that's how he'd sound if he used more than one-word sentences... Hm. Something to ponder whilst you wait for Hunny-senpai's debut.)

Reviews are the delicious cookies that feed my inspiration! If you want quicker updates, write me some! With chocolate chips! Thank you.


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